Queen Chrysalis was empathetic to even the least of her subjects, striving to impact her subjects and land positively. Even when it was hard, she didn't shy away from doing the right thing. Thorax, like every other Changeling back then, was attracted to her passion and charisma. As he took a prominent position in her court and soon found himself winning Chrysalis' favor, he soon found it impossible not to reciprocate her intense love. She had high standards and was high-maintenance - Thorax met those standards, and that flirtatious spark soon grew into a steady flame of true, abiding love.
Thorax - no, 'Cian' - reached out with his hand towards the recovered pocket watch, only to wince as it turned, and he was reminded of the cut that was silently dripping too-bright blood. The publican deftly appeared beside him after leaving to momentarily go behind the bar and get the first aid kit. He grabbed Cian's hand, and the Changeling would have flinched if he had not become emotionally exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions inside him. Shay chose to speak as Rafferty plucked away the tiny shard of glass with a pair of tweezers from Poll Raithní's mayor's hand. "We have a plan. We will tell you what it is, but there is a question I've wanted to ask you." The secretary paused, taking a deep breath, before going forward with his query. "Why did you choose Éire, Thorax?"
"...I didn't want...to forget who I was." 'Cian' muttered, not even expressing emotion as Rafferty put some burning antiseptic on his hand so it would not get dirty. "In...your culture, you called us 'fairies' - descendants of the Tribe of the Gods, living in the Otherworld...across the far horizon, yet always present, just invisible. My Mag Mell is...lost, but I wanted to live in a place where...I could pretend going back was as easy as clinging up a fairy fort..."
"So what happened to Cian?" Oisín Ó Daire queried with a frown set hard on his face as Rafferty wrapped the disguised Changeling's hand in a bandage.
"...w-what?" 'Cian' tilted his head, confused by Gob an Choire's mayor's question. "Cian is...here?"
"No, he is not." Oisín bared his teeth. "Our fairies liked to play games on us, abducting children in the middle of the night and replacing them with changeling children that acted like demons. And we thought that those fairies were just made-up stories to explain neuroatypical behaviors in kids, but now I'm sitting across from a character from a book my pa would use to read me. You are not Cian; you stole Cian. Where is he?" Oisín gripped his hands on the table, his knuckles whitening.
"Mr. Ó Daire, please refrain from doing anything rash." Conor Hallissey raised his hands in a placating motion to Oisín. Whether this was out of concern for Cian's safety or fear that he would damage a key component in their plan, the man did not say.
"Equestria Invaded the Changeling Lands seven years ago. You've known me for seven years. I didn't steal anyone away, I - '' Thorax tried to explain, but it fell on deaf ears.
"Liar." Oisín interrupted. His eyes were filled with hurt and anger, hiding sorrow. It was apparent he was not taking the information that Shay had imparted to him well.
"No, no, please..." Thorax pleaded.
"We'll have time for this later," the University President coughed awkwardly to change the subject. "As we said, we need you to write us a letter to the Princesses. It will be a letter defending Project Hy-Brasil."
"Every year, a ship leaves from this country's capital on the winter solstice, a prison hulk bound for Equestria. They travel to the dimensional gateway on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, taking with them convicts and 'civilian internees' that did something annoying enough, be it real or imaginary, that our overlords invoke the 'out of sight, out of mind' principle and rehabilitate them back home. This year is different, however. This time the hulk is planning to make a stop before they get to the gateway; Oileán Chliara Detention Center." Oisín unclenched his hands and folded them on top of each other on the table. "A commercial fisher from my town was temporarily detained for sailing her boat too close to Chliara's waters. Those thugs escorted me from my home in the middle of the night to resolve the situation. They put me on a boat, and I saw that the entire entrance to Clew Bay had been shut down; patrol ships and corvettes clogged the waves, and there were so many of those damn pegasi flying they blotted out the sky. Everyone I met there was on edge; they didn't buy my ling fisher's story and assumed she was a spy working for the rebels, and they wanted me to prove that I knew her and that she lived in Gob an Choire."
"The next morning, I got a call from Mr. Ó Daire, asking to make use of a favor I owed him to investigate why Oileán Chliara was turned into a military fortress." Conor Hallissey chimed in. "I knew some of my former students went on to lend their services to the construction of that prison, so I organized an impromptu alumni gala to see if they would come. They did, thank God, and after helping them with their memory on the matter after a few glasses of Estonian vodka, I learned some fascinating facts…"
"One of those facts was that Oileán Chliara now has a special guest. "The whole place is empty save for this one person; all the other prisoners have been evacuated to other facilities. When the winter solstice comes, that one person will disappear forever. The government has always been very forthcoming about who and how many got arrested each year. They've never bothered with this secrecy before." It was Shay's time to join in on the explanation; his eyes were those of a fiery zealot. "So I received an invitation in the mail for an alumni gala, and I figured there was no harm in taking a personal day to attend. When I got there, it didn't take an hour before Mr. Hallissey grabbed me by the arm and quietly took me into a dark room. He knew I would be interested in what he had to say, so I took it upon myself to cut through the red tape and find out as much as possible about this prisoner."
"All signs pointed to be more than just a thorn in the side of Princess Daybreak and Nightmare Moon. The crime was more than simple sedition; this convict is, we believe, a resistance fighter, a holdout from before my time." Finally, Niall spoke, having pulled up a stool from another table to sit down with Cian, Thorax, or whoever they were now. "All signs also pointed to a narrow window of opportunity for a group of disgruntled patriots, such as ourselves, to sneak onto Chliara before the prison hulk arrives disguised as building inspectors, with adequate permits and identification procured by a mayor's secretary. Project Hy-Brasil, Mr. Mayor, is that. We bring an extra set of clothes to disguise the prisoner, substitute them with a volunteer to take their place, bring them back here -"
"You poor sad fools..." Cian shook his head with a heavy sigh as he interrupted the impassioned publican's speech, snuffing out the enthusiasm in his eyes. "Let's pretend your 'project' is not full of holes. Pretend that the armada of ponies patrolling the prison and Clew Bay won't bat an eye at an unannounced building inspection, regardless of whether or not they have the proper papers, on the day this top-secret convict is due to be deported. Pretend that the guards inside won't notice you switching out this old freedom fighter, who they most likely have all eyes on, for someone else. Pretend you can escape that island when you get within a mile of it, let alone with your precious rebel." The mayor of Poll Raithní rubbed the bridge of his fake nose with his undamaged artificial hand and shut his eyes closed before continuing with his tirade.
"What is the point of all this? You're going to bring this lost elder back to the pub to hide out in a cellar so he can share war stories with you and get drunk off beer and wine?" All four men stared at the Changeling; Rafferty and Shay broke off the eye contact while Oisín and Conor kept up the staring. "That's your big middle finger to the Princesses? And you want me to write a letter saying I'm totally on board with this to validate your little fantasy? What will any of this achieve?"
"Hope." All four men responded simultaneously.
"Hope that humans and ponies might one day get along peacefully." Niall frowned, rubbing the side of his head glumly.
"Hope that the Princesses will finally recognize that while they can rule over a people, they will never rule over their hearts." Conor nodded with all the seriousness of a judge delivering a decision reached by a court of law.
"Hope they will finally pay us more attention than serfs to cater to their whims and recognize us for the people we are who deserve dignity and respect." Oisín's face was firm as a stone wall, contorted in steely determination.
"Hope that...things will one day get better..." Shay mumbled, raising his head to the ceiling, his gaze penetrating through the pub's roof to the stars above.
Thorax, Cian, or whatever his name was now, digested their answers. He tentatively flexed his bandaged hand and winced at the jolt of pain that shot up his arm. Does he go along with their plan?
Choice 1: He does, and against better judgment, they won him over.
Choice 2: He does, but only because they'll leak his secret.
Choice 3: He doesn't. Blackmail be damned, he's not going along with this madness.
Choice 4: He says that he does...planning to inform the authorities about their little project later. It's for the best.
Thorax - no, 'Cian' - reached out with his hand towards the recovered pocket watch, only to wince as it turned, and he was reminded of the cut that was silently dripping too-bright blood. The publican deftly appeared beside him after leaving to momentarily go behind the bar and get the first aid kit. He grabbed Cian's hand, and the Changeling would have flinched if he had not become emotionally exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions inside him. Shay chose to speak as Rafferty plucked away the tiny shard of glass with a pair of tweezers from Poll Raithní's mayor's hand. "We have a plan. We will tell you what it is, but there is a question I've wanted to ask you." The secretary paused, taking a deep breath, before going forward with his query. "Why did you choose Éire, Thorax?"
"...I didn't want...to forget who I was." 'Cian' muttered, not even expressing emotion as Rafferty put some burning antiseptic on his hand so it would not get dirty. "In...your culture, you called us 'fairies' - descendants of the Tribe of the Gods, living in the Otherworld...across the far horizon, yet always present, just invisible. My Mag Mell is...lost, but I wanted to live in a place where...I could pretend going back was as easy as clinging up a fairy fort..."
"So what happened to Cian?" Oisín Ó Daire queried with a frown set hard on his face as Rafferty wrapped the disguised Changeling's hand in a bandage.
"...w-what?" 'Cian' tilted his head, confused by Gob an Choire's mayor's question. "Cian is...here?"
"No, he is not." Oisín bared his teeth. "Our fairies liked to play games on us, abducting children in the middle of the night and replacing them with changeling children that acted like demons. And we thought that those fairies were just made-up stories to explain neuroatypical behaviors in kids, but now I'm sitting across from a character from a book my pa would use to read me. You are not Cian; you stole Cian. Where is he?" Oisín gripped his hands on the table, his knuckles whitening.
"Mr. Ó Daire, please refrain from doing anything rash." Conor Hallissey raised his hands in a placating motion to Oisín. Whether this was out of concern for Cian's safety or fear that he would damage a key component in their plan, the man did not say.
"Equestria Invaded the Changeling Lands seven years ago. You've known me for seven years. I didn't steal anyone away, I - '' Thorax tried to explain, but it fell on deaf ears.
"Liar." Oisín interrupted. His eyes were filled with hurt and anger, hiding sorrow. It was apparent he was not taking the information that Shay had imparted to him well.
"No, no, please..." Thorax pleaded.
"We'll have time for this later," the University President coughed awkwardly to change the subject. "As we said, we need you to write us a letter to the Princesses. It will be a letter defending Project Hy-Brasil."
"Every year, a ship leaves from this country's capital on the winter solstice, a prison hulk bound for Equestria. They travel to the dimensional gateway on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, taking with them convicts and 'civilian internees' that did something annoying enough, be it real or imaginary, that our overlords invoke the 'out of sight, out of mind' principle and rehabilitate them back home. This year is different, however. This time the hulk is planning to make a stop before they get to the gateway; Oileán Chliara Detention Center." Oisín unclenched his hands and folded them on top of each other on the table. "A commercial fisher from my town was temporarily detained for sailing her boat too close to Chliara's waters. Those thugs escorted me from my home in the middle of the night to resolve the situation. They put me on a boat, and I saw that the entire entrance to Clew Bay had been shut down; patrol ships and corvettes clogged the waves, and there were so many of those damn pegasi flying they blotted out the sky. Everyone I met there was on edge; they didn't buy my ling fisher's story and assumed she was a spy working for the rebels, and they wanted me to prove that I knew her and that she lived in Gob an Choire."
"The next morning, I got a call from Mr. Ó Daire, asking to make use of a favor I owed him to investigate why Oileán Chliara was turned into a military fortress." Conor Hallissey chimed in. "I knew some of my former students went on to lend their services to the construction of that prison, so I organized an impromptu alumni gala to see if they would come. They did, thank God, and after helping them with their memory on the matter after a few glasses of Estonian vodka, I learned some fascinating facts…"
"One of those facts was that Oileán Chliara now has a special guest. "The whole place is empty save for this one person; all the other prisoners have been evacuated to other facilities. When the winter solstice comes, that one person will disappear forever. The government has always been very forthcoming about who and how many got arrested each year. They've never bothered with this secrecy before." It was Shay's time to join in on the explanation; his eyes were those of a fiery zealot. "So I received an invitation in the mail for an alumni gala, and I figured there was no harm in taking a personal day to attend. When I got there, it didn't take an hour before Mr. Hallissey grabbed me by the arm and quietly took me into a dark room. He knew I would be interested in what he had to say, so I took it upon myself to cut through the red tape and find out as much as possible about this prisoner."
"All signs pointed to be more than just a thorn in the side of Princess Daybreak and Nightmare Moon. The crime was more than simple sedition; this convict is, we believe, a resistance fighter, a holdout from before my time." Finally, Niall spoke, having pulled up a stool from another table to sit down with Cian, Thorax, or whoever they were now. "All signs also pointed to a narrow window of opportunity for a group of disgruntled patriots, such as ourselves, to sneak onto Chliara before the prison hulk arrives disguised as building inspectors, with adequate permits and identification procured by a mayor's secretary. Project Hy-Brasil, Mr. Mayor, is that. We bring an extra set of clothes to disguise the prisoner, substitute them with a volunteer to take their place, bring them back here -"
"You poor sad fools..." Cian shook his head with a heavy sigh as he interrupted the impassioned publican's speech, snuffing out the enthusiasm in his eyes. "Let's pretend your 'project' is not full of holes. Pretend that the armada of ponies patrolling the prison and Clew Bay won't bat an eye at an unannounced building inspection, regardless of whether or not they have the proper papers, on the day this top-secret convict is due to be deported. Pretend that the guards inside won't notice you switching out this old freedom fighter, who they most likely have all eyes on, for someone else. Pretend you can escape that island when you get within a mile of it, let alone with your precious rebel." The mayor of Poll Raithní rubbed the bridge of his fake nose with his undamaged artificial hand and shut his eyes closed before continuing with his tirade.
"What is the point of all this? You're going to bring this lost elder back to the pub to hide out in a cellar so he can share war stories with you and get drunk off beer and wine?" All four men stared at the Changeling; Rafferty and Shay broke off the eye contact while Oisín and Conor kept up the staring. "That's your big middle finger to the Princesses? And you want me to write a letter saying I'm totally on board with this to validate your little fantasy? What will any of this achieve?"
"Hope." All four men responded simultaneously.
"Hope that humans and ponies might one day get along peacefully." Niall frowned, rubbing the side of his head glumly.
"Hope that the Princesses will finally recognize that while they can rule over a people, they will never rule over their hearts." Conor nodded with all the seriousness of a judge delivering a decision reached by a court of law.
"Hope they will finally pay us more attention than serfs to cater to their whims and recognize us for the people we are who deserve dignity and respect." Oisín's face was firm as a stone wall, contorted in steely determination.
"Hope that...things will one day get better..." Shay mumbled, raising his head to the ceiling, his gaze penetrating through the pub's roof to the stars above.
Thorax, Cian, or whatever his name was now, digested their answers. He tentatively flexed his bandaged hand and winced at the jolt of pain that shot up his arm. Does he go along with their plan?
Choice 1: He does, and against better judgment, they won him over.
Choice 2: He does, but only because they'll leak his secret.
Choice 3: He doesn't. Blackmail be damned, he's not going along with this madness.
Choice 4: He says that he does...planning to inform the authorities about their little project later. It's for the best.
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April 19
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